


30/2 days

by Yellow



Category: Friends at the Table (Podcast)
Genre: 15 Days of FatT 2018, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-18
Updated: 2018-02-17
Packaged: 2019-03-20 15:02:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13720173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yellow/pseuds/Yellow
Summary: 500 word-ish fics, all for 15 days of FatT.





	1. Chapter 1

There were little street festivals in Velas often. Alyosha liked to go. They were sometimes celebrations of Samothes, sometimes little celebrations older than him, or morphed to fit his words and teachings. But either way Alyosha enjoyed them. Either way they were more about neighbors coming together, families loving each other, than any great philosophy.

Alyosha liked to walk among the people there and simply bask in the warmth. It could be lonely if he let it, but he never did-it was joy enough to see others content, happy.

But-today Arrell was here, staying in Alyosha’s home, and Alyosha heard the tell-tale sounds of street vendors calling, music in the distance.

“Come with me, Tutor,” he said, and smiled.

Arrell glanced up at him briefly, then back to his work.

“I’m close to something important,” he said, but he looked up at Alyosha.

“There’s the rest of the night.”

Arrell sighed and pushed off the desk to stand up.

“A few hours couldn’t hurt.” Alyosha smiled and took his hand, lacing their fingers together. Arrell ran his thumb over Alyosha’s, almost absentmindedly.

“Well,” he said. “Where are we going?”

Closer to the docks, the streets were filled with people and sights and smells. Velas winters were mild but people took the opportunity to celebrate spring anyway. Dried and fresh flowers hung from balconies and children ran by, hands sticky with honey. Alyosha beamed.

“What are they celebrating?” Arrell asked, quieter than usual.

“Before the time of Lord Samothes people celebrated the seasons. They were at the mercy of them, and this was half-offering, half-prayer.”

Arrell hummed.

“Is this common outside of Velas?”

“Only in this area of Hieron,” Alyosha said. “It was primarily a human tradition, which excludes ancient Rosemerrow, and most of the continent has weather that breaks the pattern of seasons.” He sighed. “Many people think it was originally tied to Severea but it was so long ago it’s amazing the festival itself even exists, and she appears more to the east, anyway-if we could make a concrete link it would change the way we think about the spread of religion in Hieron-”

Alyosha stopped himself. Arrell had a glint in his eye, half-turned home.

Alyosha caught his hand.

“Later,” he stressed. “Right now, let’s enjoy it?”

Arrell hummed but followed Alyosha, hands swaying between them.

The walk along the water was always pretty, but today it was especially so, the docks covered in biers of flowers. The fish-sellers were gone today, replaced by stalls selling candies and fried foods. There was a sweet scent from the flowers and a heavier one from the frying fish and clams. Alyosha beamed.

He felt Arrell watching him and turned to him. 

“It’s nice to have someone here with me,” he said, and tugged him along. Arrell’s fingers tightened on his.

There was a tiny park by the ocean and today there was a band: some strings, a flute. They started playing a slow waltz just as they reached the square.

“Dance with me,” Alyosha said, soft. The flute was high and soft, like the breeze that played with the wisps of Alyosha’s hair escaping his braid.

“All right,” Arrell said, and Alyosha saw him swallow before taking his other hand.

“Shall I lead?”

Arrell scoffed.

“I haven’t been an old man forever,” he said. “I remember one or two things.” 

Alyosha pressed close and Arrell led him in a slow, careful waltz. It felt good, Arrell’s hand pressed against his back, keeping him steady, the way Arrell stepped between his legs, careful. 

The song ended and Arrell spun him. Alyosha laughed, delighted, and came close, linking his hands behind Arrell’s neck.

“Thank you for coming with me today,” Alyosha said.

Arrell looked flushed, just slightly. He kept looking at Alyosha’s lips.

“Of course,” he said, low. And Alyosha would have kissed him right there, but the band started again, a light, fast folk song. Alyosha kissed his cheek and took his hand. He dragged him into the circle forming and left him there, joining the growing outer ring. 

“I don’t know this one-”

“Just follow the others and come towards me,” Alyosha said, smiling. “You still aren’t an old man yet.”

Arrell’s face softened until his circle started moving and he glanced at Alyosha, panicked. 

“It’s just walking in a circle,” he called, and Arrell followed them, moving around the crowd until everyone was back to their partners and Alyosha led him in a simple spinning step before letting him go again.

And his face lost the shocked look, the worried look. Soon Arrell’s face was open, lips quirking up. He looked younger like this.

Alyosha clapped in time to the music.

Arrell came back to him, again and again.

 


	2. sleep

“What’s up?” Cass says, bleary. The screens in front of them are starting to blend together but they can’t stop quite yet. There’s a job they’re on deadline for and they need to get this info  _ tonight _ otherwise they’ll miss the target tomorrow morning and it’ll all be a mess.

But. They aren’t so far gone they can’t hear Mako trying to be quiet. It’s a very distinctive sound, punctuated with quiet “shit”s when he knocks into something.

They hear Mako still and they smile despite themself.

“You’re not subtle.”

Mako says nothing and pads forward, draping himself over the back of Cass’s office chair and resting his chin on their head.

“Can’t sleep?”

“Of course I can sleep,” Mako says. “I’m great at sleeping. I just wanted to come watch you work, it’s my favorite hobby.”

Cass drags a window from one screen to another.

“Hell yeah,” Mako says. “That’s the good stuff.” He turns his head into Cass’s hair.

“Mako.”

“What.”

Cass reaches around, awkward, to play with the hairs on the back of his neck, where Mako’s roots are just starting to show.

“Nightmare?”

“Obviously,” Mako says, muffled. “Did you really need to make me say it, I thought we could just not mention it.”

“Get off the back of the chair and get over here.”

“No,” Mako grumbles, and then Cass starts spinning around so he’s forced to move back. Cass laughs at his pout.

“Come here.”

Mako stares at them.

“Like you don’t always sit in my lap,” Cass says, fond. “Come ‘ere.”

Mako clambers into their lap and twists into them. Cass has gotten practiced at reaching around him to do work, and for a while there is no sound but Mako breathing, head resting on Cass’s shoulder.

“Cass.”

“Yeah?” Cass is exhausted, too, and Mako’s warm. They shake their head a little.

“Do you get nightmares?”

“Of course,” they say, scoffing.

“Oh,” Mako says, quiet. Then, “we should go to sleep.”

“Just give me a few more minutes-”

“Fine,” Mako says, and kisses their hair. He cuddles in closer and falls asleep slow, blinking up at Cass until he can’t keep his eyes open.

Cass finds the information they need-the person they’re tracking will be at a certain Constellation Coffee at 9 am the next morning-and they go to close out the program.

They wake up, stiff, at 7:30, Mako still tangled in their arms. 

“You are awake,” AuDy says, and Cass will always wonder at how they get so much disdain into a monotone.

“Yes. Sorry AuDy, did you want the computer?”

“No,” they say, pointed, and start moving away.

They stop.

“We have quarters for a reason-”

“Got it, AuDy,” Cass says, and hides their smile in Mako’s hair. They pick Mako up and carry him to bed. They’re sore. Still. They cover Mako over with a blanket and he smacks his lips. Not a bad way to sleep, Cass thinks, and gets out of the door before they think too hard about going back to bed with him.


	3. metamorphosis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> :3333333333333333

Maelgwyn had been thirteen for four years when Samot left.

He came inside to find his father pretending he hadn’t cried, and something sunk inside him like a stone.

“Is Papa gone?” Maelgwyn said, solemn. 

Samothes looked at him like Maelgwyn had struck him.

“Yes,” he said. Maelgwyn nodded, and didn’t think about it. He had known this was coming for years, little enough to pretend he hadn’t. He felt clever in a strange, detached way for figuring it out, for knowing his papa well enough to know that he was never going to stay with them forever. With him, forever.

He put a hand on Samothes’s head. 

“It’ll be okay, Daddy.”

Samothes took his hand off his head and held it.

“My clever, brave, boy.” He swallowed. “I’m going to need you to be even braver for a little while,” he said.

Maelgwyn closed his eyes. When he opened them Samothes seemed shorter. When he answered, his voice came out deep. 

“Yes, Daddy,” he said, and it sounded too much like Samothes.

Samothes looked as if he’d expected it, some sort of grim resignation on his face. He pulled Maelgwyn close, and all Maelgwyn could think about was how he didn’t fit so well in his arms anymore.

Samol came around less, and the first time he did Samothes told Maelgwyn to go play.

Maelgwyn threw a ball at the side of the house and tried not to listen as they shouted at each other, tried even harder not to listen to his father crying.

Samol came out eventually and sighed, heavy.

“Well, let’s take a look at you,” he said, and put a hand on his hip.

“You need new clothes, boy.” Maelgwyn tugged at his pants, three inches too short.

Samol clucked his tongue. “Least Samothes could do is take care of the kin he’s still got.” Maelgwyn shuffled from foot to foot. Samothes had been distant but he still didn’t like hearing Samol put him down.

Samol looked at him, head tilted.

“You okay?” He shook his head, wiped his mouth. “Of course you’re not.” Maelgwyn shifted again. Samol took his chin in hand, gentle. 

“Well, shoot. If you’re gonna stay this big someone’s gonna have to teach you how to shave.”

The deep ache in Maelgwyn’s chest worsened and then he was crying, wiping his eyes like he could prevent Samol from seeing.

“Come here,” Samol said, and hugged him tight. They were almost the same height, now. Maelgywn sobbed, hands fisted in Samol’s shirt.

“I hate him,” Maelgwyn said.

“Now, don’t you say that,” Samol said, but didn’t let him go. “Your papa of all people knows the power words have, and he’d be very sad to hear you say a thing like that.”

Maelgwyn sobbed and buried his face in Samol’s shoulder.

“You don’t have to be big and brave, no matter what your daddy’s telling you.” Samol rocked him a bit, like he used to when Maelgwyn was little and had a nightmare. “He’s not being big and brave right now either.”

“Then I have to be brave for him,” Maelgwyn said, voice cracking. He stood up straight and wiped his face and when he opened his eyes again he was taller, looking down at Samol. Samol smiled at his, sad, and patted his cheek. There was hair there now instead of just stubble, prickling where Samol touched it.

“I love you, Maelgwyn. I never thought I’d have a grandson.”

Maelgwyn had to blink back tears again. Samol turned away.

“I suppose it really is time to teach you how to shave.” 

 

**Author's Note:**

> find me at capricioustube.


End file.
